


Then hold my memory

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: A whole lot of feelings, Eight uses his TIME SENSE, F/M, JUST, Porn with Feelings, Romance, kinda yowzah trope bingo, there was DANCING but we skipped that bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: The plan had been dancing lessons; that’s all.  A swanky party with some of Hollywood’s lesser elite, where she’d cast a long shadow in the room, but wouldn’t chance running into any of Rita’s closer acquaintances.  She’d charm him into a dance or two— it was only the rumba.  What would be the harm?





	Then hold my memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RegalPotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPotato/gifts).



> So I have NOT abandoned work on the Furies, I promise! But I was suffering from SERIOUS writer's block until Katie bullied me (her words) into writing this in an attempt to regain my mojo. And Bree said she needed an Eight fic to convince her to fall in love with him so... here we are :)
> 
> Takes place during a future installment of Ravenous, probably? But requires no knowledge of Ravenous. Does contain a handful of mild Doom Coalition spoilers. Also I've decided he's already moved on to his Night of the Doctor costume for this because well why wouldn't you?????
> 
> Thank you to Katie and Cassie for beta-ing!
> 
> And please check out the WONDERFUL fanart Katie made [here!](http://regalpotato.tumblr.com/post/174946504543/the-doctor-squeaked-in-surprise-as-he-stumbled)

The plan had been dancing lessons; that’s all.  A swanky party with some of Hollywood’s lesser elite, where she’d cast a long shadow in the room, but wouldn’t chance running into any of Rita’s closer acquaintances.  She’d charm him into a dance or two— it was only the rumba.  What would be the harm?  But she couldn’t risk anything more with the psychic wimple in place.  If he saw through it, what then?  There was something about the thought of wiping this one’s memories that made her hearts twist in her chest.  He’d had enough of that already without her help.

But then they’d staggered away from the dance floor, giddy and grinning, and he placed a gentle hand on her back as he fell into step beside her.  His blue eyes were bright when she stole a glance his way and found him already watching her.  The breathless delight on his face was just too much to resist.

Oh, to hell with it.

River grasped his lapels and tugged him with her, abruptly spinning away from the crowd.  The Doctor squeaked in surprise as he stumbled after her, and when she backed into a shadowed corner, he caught himself against the wall, his hands on either side of her head.  Their eyes locked as his unsteady breaths puffed over her cheek, and she wondered if he felt the scant space between them humming with electricity as she did.

“Rita?” he asked over the muted thrum of the band starting up once more: a loaded word, uncertain and soft and _wrong._  She longed to hear _her_ name in that voice again, urgent and reverent, the way it’d spilled off his lips as he remembered her.

But she wasn’t meant to have that.  They couldn’t have that.  Only the dancing.  Shouldn’t that have been enough?

He still hadn’t moved away.

River reached up a cautious hand, brushing a soft curl back from his forehead.  Her hearts thundered against her ribs, chest heaving in the sudden stillness.  She licked her lips, her eyes roaming over his dear face, but every word she desperately wished to say died in her throat.  It was all spoilers between them.

Something shifted in his expression as she brushed her thumb over his cheek: a brief flutter of his eyelids, a flicker of surrender to the heat of her touch.  But as quickly as that tenderness had come, it was chased away by a piercing light in his eyes.  He pressed in closer, warm air shuddering from his lips and spreading over her skin.  She shivered, desperately clinging to her senses, because she _knew_ that look: the one that said he’d caught the scent, he’d tasted a trace of mystery, and he was so, so close to working it out.

“Is that right?” the Doctor muttered, the vibration of his low voice stirring the air by her throat, gooseflesh prickling down her side as he hovered oh-so-near.

“Is what right?” she managed to ask, grateful that her own voice sounded more solid than she felt, pinned beneath the promise of his touch.

“Rita?” he repeated, smug and smiling; it was audible.  “Or is it, in fact, Sister?”

“Ah.”  She swallowed, but let her hand drift down to rest against his shoulder, tracing circles in the velvet of his lapel.  “So you remember that.”

“Or was it actually Professor?”

“Whatever you like, sweetie,” she sighed.  He could at least show her a bit of mercy and decide if this was going to be a seduction or an interrogation.  Though the two weren’t mutually exclusive, especially when it came to his younger faces.

“I’d like to know who you really are,” he said, all firm and serious, leaning back enough to meet her eyes again.  In his sudden absence, River tried to ignore the chill creeping over her skin.

She shrugged, forcing a smile.  “Just someone who loves you.”

The admission was too soft, too fragile to be anything but the truth.  She saw it sinking in, the Doctor’s lips parting in surprise as the weight of it settled onto him, because _this one_ could always tell.  He could feel that future spiralling out ahead of him.

This had really not gone to plan.  Before he could think about it too much, she curled her fingers in his coat, pulled him back in and kissed him.

For all his shock, he didn’t hesitate long before melting into her, letting out a soft sigh against her lips.  One hand settled on her shoulder and the other came up to cup her face as he pressed her back into the wall, his mouth moving eager and warm with hers.

For a moment, River let herself forget what a mess it all was.  How she was tripping dangerously through his past and would certainly have to make sure he forgot this later.  How he didn’t _really_ know her, not yet.  Just for now, warm in his arms and buzzing with simple joy each time their lips briefly parted and he came back in for more, she could forget all the rest.

Until the Doctor’s hand on her face slid back into her hair, and he froze.

“W—” he mumbled, and then apparently remembered to separate their lips before speaking.  _“What?”_

River’s eyes fluttered open, her pulse racing and body still thrumming with warmth, and she nearly burst into laughter at his expression.

“Sweetie, it’s—”

“—the psychic cloak,” he interrupted.  “I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Wimple, actually,” she corrected, averting her gaze to the pearly buttons on his waistcoat.

“So I haven’t gotten your name _or_ your face,” he said, a frown audible in his voice even as she ducked her head.  “Hardly seems fair.  All I know is your _hair_ is…” he trailed off, threading his fingers into invisible curls.

River heaved a sigh.  “Bigger on the inside?”

The startled laughter that bubbled up out of him was so warm and infectious that her hearts ached, and she leaned into him, clutching at his cravat, tucking her head against his shoulder.

“May I?” the Doctor asked, tentative hands combing through the edge of her curls, searching for the switch that would disable her disguise.

She reached up and caught his hands in hers, lowering them from her hair.  “Not here.”  She met his eyes, weighing what she’d told him already, the danger and the desperation to have just a little more time with him.  Any one of him.

“Take me home?” she finally whispered.

“Where?”

She swallowed against the ache in her throat.  “I mean with you.”

He didn’t miss the implication, his eyes widening for a moment before he nodded, folding her into his side as they stepped out of the corner of the room and wove their way back through the outskirts of the party.  Maybe there would be talk of Rita Hayworth leaving with a new beau; she was between marriages at the moment, River thought, so it wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

The sound of music and revelry faded as they crossed the threshold and stepped out into the cool night air.  She glanced at her husband, staring ahead and lost in his thoughts.  She was still so very used to another face: one that stood taller over her, even in her heels.  One with silver hair that caught the starlight.  A face that seemed so severe until those soft eyes turned on her and it split into a brilliant, giddy grin.

But his arm was wrapped snugly around her, just the same.  She hadn’t told him much.  He just knew.  And the young ones, in all those sweet forbidden meetings, never ran.  They hadn’t seen whatever lay just ahead of her now.  They weren’t afraid.

As she slid out of the Doctor’s grip to step into the TARDIS, her mother hummed welcomingly in her mind.  There was one presence that never changed at all, whose love never wavered no matter where she was in time.  River smiled, her eyes travelling around the expansive, dimly-lit control room.  The console was bathed in blue, with the rest of the chamber lit by faint candlelight.  Cosy rugs were scattered about the floors and an armchair sat off to one side, but her eyes were drawn to the bookshelves lining the walls.  It almost looked like—

“Home,” the Doctor said, his voice breaking into her thoughts, “as requested.”  He flashed her a slightly nervous smile.  “When you said that…”

“Spoilers,” she interrupted before he could finish his question.  She turned to face him, leaning back against the console.

“You’re from my future,” he said, stepping slowly back into her space.

 _“From_ it; _am_ it,” she tipped her head to the side, scrunching her nose.  “Something like that.”

He let out another surprised, devastatingly charming laugh, smiling as he stepped closer still.  His hands drifted back to her hair.  “May I?” he asked again.

River nodded, hearts in her throat.

He located the switch quickly, disengaging the psychic image before lifting the device from her hair.

 _“Oh.”_  He exhaled the word slowly.

“Not Rita Hayworth, I know,” she laughed, staring down at her knees.

“No, I… would it be terribly stupid of me to say I think I’ve dreamt of you?”

When she glanced up again, her breath caught at the look of wonder on the Doctor’s face.

“No,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes, “not stupid at all.”

She didn’t need to pull him in this time.  A choked whimper escaped her as his mouth met hers, soft and open, and she threw her arms over his shoulders as his slipped around her waist.  Oh, it was a silly old universe, wasn’t it?  You only had to bend the rules a bit to find yourself in the midst of another little miracle.  Pressed back into the console and flush with the bliss of her husband’s affection, she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry for giving time the runaround.

“There’s just one thing,” River panted against his lips, sighing with pleasure when he kissed her again before she could finish.

“Yes?” the Doctor asked when they finally parted, his hands sliding over her back.

“You can’t remember this.”

“Do you know, I was getting that idea.”

She breathed out a laugh against his cheek that turned into a soft moan as he nuzzled into her neck.  “Don’t you mind?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“I could go,” she said, half in a whisper, an ache in her throat as she tried to gather the necessary resolve if he chose to send her away.

Instead he pressed a warm kiss to her neck, and she slumped bonelessly against his chest.

“I could decide this is reckless, even for me,” he muttered, his voice reverberating against her skin and sending shivers down her spine.  “I see the way our timelines weave around each other over the centuries.  I could start to wonder if the CIA’s gotten a bit more creative in their attempts to babysit me.”

River huffed in disdain.

“I’m certain that at another time in my life, I’d never have let you get so close.”

She snorted.  “You don’t know how right you are.”

“Well, I’ve seen those options,” the Doctor said, raising his head to look at her again, a sweet smile spreading over his face.  “I prefer you.”

A little laugh burst out of her as she blinked back tears, and he captured her smile with his lips.  She was lost in the perfect comfort of his embrace, her hands tangling in his hair, their laboured breaths coming faster between lingering kisses.  Her senses dulled to everything but the Doctor, she didn’t pick up the footsteps in the corridor until a voice shattered the quiet of the console room.

“Doctor, have you seen— oh!”

They split apart, flushed and breathless, and the Doctor gaped helplessly at his companion.

“So this is what you get up to at night?”  Liv’s voice was full of barely-restrained laughter.  “Have to say, not what I expected.  I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

“Hello, Liv,” River said, turning to look over her shoulder with an unapologetic smile.

“River,” she offered in greeting, hand on her hip and a delighted grin on her face.  “Can I tease him about this right now or do you want me to come back when you’ve finished?”

The Doctor choked on air.  “I— Liv, this isn’t— well, it _is,_ but that’s not— hang on, _‘River?’”_

“Oh.”  River smiled sheepishly as she turned back to face him, his eyes wide and cheeks adorably pink.  “Yes, well.”  She shrugged.  “Hello, sweetie.”

“Why does that seem familiar?” he asked, his voice soft and awed, as he reached up to touch her face.

“Maybe you dreamed it?” she offered, her eyes fluttering shut as his hand brushed over her cheek.

Liv cleared her throat.  “Right, so I’ll just be off then—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Doctor said, his voice suddenly much more firm and rapidly building to annoyance as he lowered his hand to River’s shoulder and looked back up at Liv, “I didn’t realise you two were such good friends!  Anything else you’d like to let me in on?”

“Hey— don’t look at me!  Helen’s the one who knew first—”

“What, Helen too?!” the Doctor sputtered.

“In fairness, honey,” River said, laying a calming hand on his chest, “you’re the one who’s not supposed to know me.”

He sighed, deflating before her, and a pang shot through River’s chest as her thoughts travelled ahead to the inevitable end.  As his voice echoed in her memory, heavy with longing, _“I always forget.”_  She reached up to straighten his cravat.

“What were you looking for, Liv?” the Doctor asked wearily.

“Oh, the kettle’s walked off again but you know, I think I’ll just go back to bed.  You know.  BEDROOMS.  You two might want to give one of those a try.”

“Yes, thank you for that,” he said, muffled behind his hand covering his face.

“You’re welcome!” she called gleefully as she retreated to the corridor.  “Night, River!”

“Goodnight, Liv,” she called back, fighting a smile.

The Doctor dragged his hand over his face before dropping it to rest by her thigh on the console, and they both laughed.  As River studied the little lines that creased around his eyes when he smiled that warm, lovely smile at her, the space between them began to shrink again.

“I think,” she said, just a whisper of air between their lips, “maybe we ought to take her advice, before the other one wakes up.”

“Ah.”  He swallowed nervously and leaned back.  “Yes.  Um.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking his hand as she slipped down from the console, “I have something in mind.”

He followed her out of the control room and through the corridor without protest.  She didn’t take him to their— _his_ — bedroom.  Sometimes the TARDIS would give River precedence when she was onboard, and rearrange the room to suit her.  She didn’t want to spook him, or to see… that, again.  Because she couldn’t go home, not really.  That part was done.

But just for tonight, she still had him.

She took him to one of the TARDIS’s studies, with a fire lit in the hearth and a cosy settee arranged in front of it.  The Doctor watched her with open fascination as he sat down beside her.

“You do seem very at home here,” he said, with less uncertainty and more conviction.

“I told you, that’s spoilers,” she replied lightly, tracing her fingertip along the seam of his coat, curving over his shoulder.

“Another little tidbit my friends know and I don’t?”

“Maybe.”

“And is there anything you _would_ like to tell me, River?”

Her name rang in the air between them, even sweeter than before: hopeful and eager and just a little bit demanding.

“Maybe it’s better if I show you,” she whispered, drawing a line in the velvet, over his shoulder and across chest, to rest her fingertips on the deep blue cravat loosely knotted around his neck.  Her gaze flicked up to meet his.  “Would that be alright?”

He nodded mutely, eyes bright in the golden light of the fire.

She was in the Doctor’s lap before he realised she’d moved, judging by the startled noise he made into her mouth.  But he reached for her immediately, brushing her hair back from her face and cupping her cheek as his other hand slid boldly up her thigh.  She hummed her approval as she blindly worked the knot of his cravat open, slipping it free and wrapping the fabric around her hand.

He didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied as he was with kissing her, deep and desperate, barely parting for breath before he drew her in again.  And this, being blissfully wrapped up in each other, was something that never truly changed.  The tenderness and the need in his touch, the warmth buzzing in her chest, the delight of _belonging_ together, no matter the strange circumstances.

His lips moved to her cheek and her jaw as she worked on the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, his hand skimming over her hip.  When he kissed her throat, breathing in deeply with his face pressed into her skin, River shuddered.

“That’s what gave you away,” he mumbled, voice tinged with amusement.

“What?” she blurted, embarrassingly distracted by his slightest touch.

“Your perfume.  Parma violets.  Your calling card, before I ever even saw you.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweet talker?” she teased breathlessly, thrilling at his contented sigh when she slipped her hand into his shirt, spanning the space between his hearts.

“How long, River?” he asked, fragile and hopeful.  “When you leave me, how long will I have to wait for my future to arrive?”

“Oh, my love.  That’s the wrong question.”

“Is it?”

“Mm,” she affirmed, sliding both hands over his chest to push his layers of rumpled clothing over his shoulders.  “You only need to know if it’s worth the wait.”

The Doctor laughed, and sat forward to finally wriggle out of his coat and shirt.  River slipped off his lap to give him room, leaning back against the arm of the settee.  When he crawled over her, she couldn’t help mirroring the smile on his lovely face.

“I think I already have a feeling about that,” he confessed, nudging his nose against hers.

“You usually do.”

He kissed her again, indulgently slow, as if memorising the feel and taste of her.  Searching for some other little piece his mind could hold onto.  A whisper of the warmth of her lips on his and the brush of her curls against his cheek, to accompany the pang of longing whenever the faint whiff of violets teased his senses.

She realised she’d been listening and guiltily forced her mind shut to his thoughts.  It was still a reflex, in moments like this.

Luckily, her attention was fully captured by the Doctor’s hand sliding down her shoulder, along her collarbone, over her chest; his fingers tracing carefully over her skin.  The fingertips of his right hand were smooth, River realised, while the soft touch of his left hand on the back of her neck rasped with calluses.   _Oh, the violin._  The little revelation made her eyes burn with tears.  For her dear musician, and all the many things that never changed about him.  For the things that _did_ , the tiny details of each life that she so desperately wished to learn, to keep and to treasure.  But this one wasn’t hers to hold onto.

His fingers followed hesitantly along the neckline of her dress, and she arched up into him in encouragement, drawing his lower lip into her mouth and wringing a rough exhale from deep in his chest.  His palm pressed against her breast as his hand on her neck slipped up into her hair, cradling the back of her head.  When he began to rub circles in the bodice of her dress with his thumb, she finally broke away from his mouth to breathe raggedly against his cheek.

“Okay?” he whispered, his lips just brushing the hint of a kiss by her ear.

 _“Yes,”_ she sighed emphatically.

A soft, pleased puff of breath danced over her skin.  The Doctor drew her in close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her and his hand lifting her head.

“And this?” he asked, as his other hand slid around behind her again to give the zip of her dress a gentle tug.

“Please,” River urged, spreading her hands wide over his back, soaking in the comforting heat of his skin.

He trailed kisses over her neck and her shoulder as he pulled down the zip and slipped one cap sleeve over her arm, then the other.  He leaned back, looking to her for reassurance again, his eyes soft and searching as they roamed over her face.  She smiled and covered his hands with hers, guiding him to peel the bodice down to her hips.

The look of awe and want on his face was an achingly familiar one, as was that sweet, deep, earnest something that she hesitated to name, young as he was.  After all, he didn’t really know her.  He only saw the way their timelines twisted on into his future: together.

For now, the Doctor folded her in his arms, pressing his chest to hers and enveloping her in a warmth that made her draw in a sharp, shaky breath as she settled her head against his shoulder.  It was enough.

It was a little awkward with her dress bunched down below her waist, some of the beading turned inward and digging into her back.  But his heartbeats were steady and strong against her chest, the scent of his skin a familiar comfort that drew River’s thoughts back to lazy starlit mornings, tangled together in the sheets.  To softly-muttered words between kisses, and nothing in the universe to make any demands on their time.

A swell of mad, desperate love rose up inside her, straining against her ribs, too much to hold in.  She nuzzled her face into his skin and placed a wet kiss at the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, relishing the way he trembled in her arms.  He moved one hand to her face, tracing over her cheek with his thumb as he bent his head to kiss her forehead, her fluttering eyelids, the bridge of her nose.  The ache in her chest was swallowing her whole.

“Sweetie,” she breathed, glancing up to see him smile at the endearment.  “Mind if I…”  She reached down to shove ineffectually at her dress, pinned beneath him as she was.

“Oh,” the Doctor said, immediately rising up on one arm and moving back to give her space, “sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied, grinning as she wiggled her dress down over her hips, “you were just where I want you.  Well, almost.”

He choked on a laugh as it became apparent that she had not worn anything under her dress.  “Were— were you expecting this?” he nearly squeaked.

“Um, not at all, actually.  But it’s, well, sort of tradition at this point.”

He did laugh then, startled and fond and intrigued.  It was really _criminal_ how charming that was.

“I could… give you a hand with yours, if you like,” River offered, fingertips dancing over the top button of his trousers, her eyes fixed on his face, watching for a hint of hesitation.

He swallowed but nodded firmly, reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear.

She made quick work of helping him out of his remaining clothing, though there was a slight hangup with the order of removing his shoes.  Her own heels and his cravat, knotted loosely around her wrist now, she left on.

“Are those tradition too?” the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow as they eased back into each other on the settee, his hands settling gently at her waist.

“Oh, you’re very good,” she purred, grinning.

She cut off his soft chuckle with a kiss, and oh, this was even better: his warm skin pressed against hers from head to toe as he shifted over her, his deep exhale just on the edge of a moan.  His hands travelled up over her ribcage as she dragged her nails lightly down his back, and he made another strangled sound as he kissed her more urgently, his tongue curling around hers.

When his hands carefully grazed her breasts, River arched eagerly into his palms, hooking one leg over his hip and drawing him firmly closer.  He smiled against her lips, a gentle puff of air fanning over her cheek, as his thumbs stroked in circles over her skin, heat rippling through her at his touch.

She grasped his shoulders and hummed with pleasure as the Doctor lowered his mouth to her throat, each brush of his lips firing lightning shocks down her spine, leaving her melted limply into the cushions in their wake.  When he kissed his way along her chest to close his lips around a nipple, she let out a soft cry, tangling her hands in his hair and gripping him to her.

The heat of his mouth consumed her senses, her hips rocking up into him, desperate for more contact.  Then his fingers dipped between her thighs, and she groaned as her head dropped back onto the arm of the settee.

“Like this, River?” he asked, a low, raspy murmur against her skin as he circled his fingertips slowly, and she wondered if he knew what it did to her every time he spoke her name.

“Yes, sweetie,” she gasped.  “Just like that.”

River’s thighs trembled around his hips as his mouth returned to her breast, his tongue tracing maddening patterns in time with the press of his fingers.  The shuddering flush of pleasure flooded through her body, her breath bursting out in harsh whimpers, her hands blindly clutching the Doctor close.

“Oh, honey,” she babbled, stroking his hair as everything faded but the draw of his mouth and the rhythm of his fingers and the press of his body against hers: so warm and close, wrapped up tight in her arms, just like they belonged—

She cried out as she tipped helplessly over the edge, writhing and shaking beneath him.  The Doctor lifted his head and curled his arm around her shoulders, cradling her against his chest while he worked her through the waves of bliss.

Everything was a little fuzzy in the aftermath of rapture.  When River’s eyes finally came into focus again, he was watching her with a sort of reverent wonder, his pupils blown wide with desire, a soft smile turning up the corner of his mouth.  Bathed in the firelight, he was every bit as beautiful as he always would be.

“I love you,” she sighed, and maybe she shouldn’t have said that again, not right now, in the middle of _this,_ when he was so young and the last thing she wanted was to put any distance between them.  But it was true, pounding through her veins with every double-beat of her hearts, begging, _demanding_ to be spoken.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead, and her mind was suddenly filled with the rush of his thoughts: the ache of longing, an empty space whose shape he could never quite see until she stepped into it.  The click of her heels and the deep burst of her laughter and a waft of her perfume; a brilliant flash of light, casting just a flicker of golden illumination on those hazy dreams that came before, and the promise of her that wound like ivy around his days to come.  

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips as he kissed her.  

River stroked trembling hands along the Doctor’s sides, gripping his hips as they pressed eagerly into hers.  His want permeated her mind: to know her, to hold her close and taste his future, before she slipped through his fingers again.  He breathed out sharply against her cheek when she wrapped her hand around him, kissing her like he wanted to swallow her whole.  She shifted below him, angling her hips and guiding them together.

She moaned, long and low, her nerves still heightened from her recent high and already singing with the sweet pressure as he pushed into her.  The Doctor broke away from her lips to pant her name against her neck, _“River”_ washing over the shell of her ear, desperate and ecstatic.  He wrapped his arms around her as she clutched at his shoulders, holding tight to each other as if they could somehow hold back the inevitable moment they’d have to part.

He moved with her slowly, drawing out every shaky breath and whispered word as the heat gently built between them.  River brushed back his fringe as it tumbled into his face, perspiration turning the soft curls to ringlets, and pressed her lips to his temple.

“I wish I could keep you,” the Doctor gasped, between increasingly frantic kisses.

“Darling,” she moaned, clinging to her senses as she trembled with every deep stroke, hovering once more on the threshold of bliss, “I’m already yours.”

 

__

 

It would have been easier, probably, to do it as he slept.  To erase his memories while he dreamed, and slip away without a word.  The last thing she needed was to endure another goodbye.  She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

But would she ever be given a chance like this again, to have one more ‘good morning?’

River woke long before the Doctor began to stir.  When he did, pulling her closer before his eyes even opened, sighing contentedly with his face tucked into her neck, she was grateful for her moment of weakness.

She reached up to comb her fingers through his unruly mop of curls, a little smirk on her lips; for once she’d been able to inflict on him some tiny portion of the damage he always did to her hair.  

Gradually, he began to shift; his hands splayed possessively over her back as he drew her body flush against his, warm and solid and oh, this was her _favourite_ sort of good morning.

“Are you awake?” River laughed breathlessly.

“No,” he mumbled into her skin, nibbling at her collarbone, “definitely dreaming.”

“Oh, my mistake.  Carry on, then.”

“As you wish,” he said, kissing her chest.

She let out a throaty giggle, grabbing his ridiculous, lovely face in her hands and bringing his smiling mouth to hers—

There was a knock at the study door.

The Doctor groaned.

“I’d probably better answer that,” she said regretfully.

“If we’re quiet, they’ll go away!” he whispered.

She rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder before standing from the settee, stretching her arms above her head.

“I hope you’re not planning on answering it like that,” he remarked, sitting up and watching her with bleary-eyed appreciation.

“Nonsense,” River said, bending in a manner that gave him the best eyeful of her bum and retrieving his green velvet coat from the floor, “I’ll just put on something more comfortable.”

The look on his face as she slipped into his coat and pulled it snug around her waist could best be described as tortured.

“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded.

“Are you _absolutely sure_ I can’t remember this?” he whinged.

“Oh, you’re cheeky when you’re half asleep!” she scolded as she turned away, biting back a smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, the Doctor collapsed dramatically back onto the settee.

She opened the door.

“Oh!”  Helen’s eyes went wide, flicking down minutely before she resolutely returned them to River’s face, a flush creeping over her cheeks.  “River!  Good to… see you’re back— you’ll have to tell me that story when you’re…. um, later.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” River said, flashing her a conspiratorial grin.

Helen snorted.  “Wouldn’t I?  ...I, em, guess the cat’s out of the bag, then?”

 _“Twenty credits if he’s in his pants!”_ Liv yelled from somewhere out of sight.

Behind River, the Doctor groaned again.

“Not entirely,” River confessed, lowering her voice.  “Just follow my lead.”

“Right,” Helen agreed vaguely, a trooper as always.  “We were actually just wondering if you wanted some breakfast?”

River gave her a strained smile.  “A lovely offer; I wish I could.  But I think I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“What?” Helen laughed incredulously.  “You think _he’s_ kicking _you_ out?  I think Liv would give _him_ a—”

“Of course, we’ll have breakfast,” the Doctor said, appearing behind River.  “Didn’t I say we had to try that place on Dravidia?”

Helen shrugged.  “You might have done.”

“Yes, good to see you’ve been listening.”

 _“Doctor,”_ River admonished, turning back to see he’d put on his trousers and shirt, which looked quite delicious on him all unbuttoned and askew— so much for Liv’s bet, though she doubted Helen was in possession of any credits anyway.  “Do you think that’s such a good idea?  Perhaps you’d like to be able to _remember_ your breakfast?”

“And after that,” he barrelled on, tugging on a curl that had roamed into her field of vision and letting it spring back into place, “we’ll have a look at that Silurian regulator I found on Adipose III.”

“Oh, will we?” she asked, setting her hand on her hip.

“Yes.  Helen, you and Liv are not to mention any of this to me later, alright?  Er, well, actually, you might need to explain quite a lot of it.  But you won’t mention River was here.”

“I’m… I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m going to have to forget about her,” he explained, his bravado about the whole scenario faltering on the words, “so best not bring it up to me again.”

“Forget about her?  And how are you going to do that?”

“I’ll leave that to my clever wife’s devices.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, as River frowned at him, dreading when she would have to make sure he wouldn’t— she gasped indignantly.  “I did _not_ tell you that!”

“No?”  He kissed her cheek, smiling that infuriating, smug little smile of his that transcended regenerations.  “I thought you made it quite obvious.”

River sighed, deflating as she turned back to Helen.  “Yes, thank you, dear.  We’ll be along for breakfast shortly.”

“And… you’re not going to find that at all suspicious, Doctor, that we have to tell you what happened this morning?” Helen asked.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he replied wearily.

“Alright!” she said, throwing up her hands in the longsuffering manner of the Doctor’s companions throughout the ages.

The study door clicked shut behind her and River turned, only to find herself pressed back into it as the Doctor kissed her soundly.  She swayed into him, already flushed and giddy again in his arms.  It was going to be so, _so_ hard to go.

“I know you have to,” he said, and she couldn’t bring herself to scold him for listening in, not when she’d done the same last night and he was presently kissing her between every other word.  “But later.”

He leaned back just enough for her eyes to focus on his sweet, hopeful face.

“Later,” she agreed, and pulled him in again.


End file.
